


Hold My Hand

by MsSir



Series: One [1]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-01-11 20:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18431513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsSir/pseuds/MsSir
Summary: As if weaving their fingers together would make for a deeper connection.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter was written in 2014 and posted to FFn. I'm reposting it here and adding to it. Chapter 1 is brought to you, in part, by [Elevator Confessions](http://www.ralst.com/ElevatorConfessions.HTM) by Mercury.

Andy spent the ride, ten minutes so far, watching Miranda watch Paris. Miranda’s focus seemed glued to her window, but Andy knew Miranda saw nothing of what they passed; Miranda was the definition of tense and distracted. Divorce and betrayal were heavy no matter how you looked at it and Miranda’s entire body spoke her burdens. The tilt of her head, the arc of her back, even the corners of her eyes and lips spoke of her internal turmoil. Miranda did not have one of her headaches, yet, but her body, tight and on edge, made it a question of _when_ not _if_. Andy had pain medication and Pellegrino in her bag, ready should Miranda accept them.

Last night, Andy learned there was little else Miranda would allow her to do. She also understood—thanks to her little hiatus of self-reflection after today’s luncheon—that there was so much more she wanted to do; things that fell outside of her jurisdiction as assistant. Her desire in this moment definitely fell way outside of her role; no assistant would be crazy enough to even think about holding Miranda’s hand, let alone truly contemplate doing it.

Two minutes later the car had stopped altogether. Paris was no better than New York when it came to traffic jams and Miranda’s thin patience was almost nil. Andy decided she was going to do it. Holding Miranda’s hand couldn't be too much worse than skipping out on her job for an hour.

She slid closer to Miranda’s side of the car, for once grateful she hadn’t bothered with her seat belt. She moved as quietly as she could against the leather, but Miranda caught the movement and turned her attention to Andy. After surveying the space that was no longer between them Miranda’s eyebrow rose over her forehead in a silent demand of explain-yourself.

The question put Andy on alert and she searched Miranda’s face and eyes for anger, defensiveness, anything that would put the space back between them, but all she could find was curiosity. That was all the encouragement her racing heart needed. Andy pulled her hand from her lap and reached for Miranda. She wasn’t moving fast enough to present a threat, she wanted to give Miranda a chance to react.

Miranda’s eyes tracked Andy’s movement for a moment, then she looked to her own hand; which was stiff next to an even stiffer leg. The way Miranda’s eyes snapped back to Andy’s made it clear she understood what was going on. She was poised to speak; however, she swallowed her words when her eyes landed on brown; Andy was staring at her as if she were the only person in the world. Miranda’s words became the tilt of her head, the movement causing some of her hair to hide her left eye. Not that it mattered, Andy could still, clearly, see the challenge of you-would-not-dare. But Andy’s movement never stopped because she dared and desired and did not want to turn back.

Andy’s eyes slid closed at the contact. The first thing she noticed was the warmth that stemmed from Miranda’s skin, the irony wasn’t lost on her. The second thing she noticed was the smooth softness that made up Miranda’s palm. As her fingertips moved beyond Miranda’s palm, Andy made their hands line up; pinky against pinky, thumb against thumb, until each finger mirrored the one above it.

Andy opened her eyes to a sea of blue, darker than she had ever seen, swimming with specks of grey. Miranda appeared to be holding her breath and there was a pink tint to her cheeks, another first for Andy. Then Miranda blinked and Andy was hit was understanding. What she was seeing now was just a stronger, clearer, version of what she saw every morning after her make-over. The same thing she saw every time she provided for Miranda what the editor had yet to realize she needed. It was the same thing she saw every time Miranda invited her into an elevator. And it was the same thing Andy saw last night when she tried to offer herself to Miranda. It has always been there, almost perfectly hidden by Andy’s sense of self-doubt.

Everything she now realized she wanted, Miranda was offering, yet again; this time as loudly as Andy was asking for it. Andy sucked in a small breath and continued. She slid her palm towards the front of the car, ever so slightly, before sliding her fingers to the side, causing Miranda’s to slip a bit into the now empty space below them.

Miranda still had not moved, but her breathing returned, slow and even, her eyebrow still raised, still wondering. Andy answered the quiet question the best way she could think of, she smiled, small and bright and honest. Miranda’s face shifted so slightly only Andy would have noticed, and it made Andy’s heart too heavy to beat for a moment, but it speed back up when Miranda started moving. She moved slowly, pushing her fingers farther into the space below them, so their fingers sat side by side.

Now moving together, Andy’s smile widened as they pushed into each other, removing the remaining space between their palms, curling their fingers, properly holding hands. Their palms and eyes now locked together. Miranda sighed and gave a small squeeze. The new shade of red gracing her cheeks was nothing compared to the blush that covered Andy’s cheeks and neck.

Andy’s thumb was already gently moving back and forth over Miranda’s skin. She watched Miranda’s reaction and tried to convey everything floating in her mind and could only come up with one, inadequate, word. "Always."

Miranda seemed to understand, her reply one of her subtle nods and a genuine, albeit small, smile of her own. When she turned her sight to the world outside her window she gave Andy’s hand another squeeze; this moment was not being dismissed, it was being stretched and added to.

A moment later traffic began to move again and Andy tried not to be disappointed as the understanding that this would have to end at some point—that it would be sooner than later—washed over her. With a squeeze of her own, she moved her focus to the woman next to her. She watched as the tension rolled from Miranda’s head and neck and slid from her shoulders. Andy watched in wonder, falling into the silence that spread over them and memorized the feel of Miranda’s hand in her own.


	2. Chapter 2

Miranda was in the upstairs living room—watching Cassidy and Caroline play a game she couldn't focus on while scratching Patricia behind an ear—pretending she was not experiencing a new combination of excitement and nerves when the door bell finally rang.

In the time it took Miranda to stand, Cassidy was already free of the room. "I’ll get it."

Caroline laughed, "Only because you’re losing."

Miranda followed Cassidy out of the room at much more reasonable speed, Patricia at her heels. She could hear Cassidy pull the door open.

"Oh, it’s you," she said, not unkindly.

Andrea’s voice floated up to Miranda as she made her way down the stairs. "It’s nice to see you, too, Cassidy."

"I’m not—wait, how’d you know?"

"Because I’ve met you before."

Miranda made it to the bottom of the stairs in time to see Andrea wink at Cassidy. Andrea looked up in time to see Miranda’s slip of a smile, her eyes met blue and stayed there. Miranda started to wonder if Andrea understood the power of knowing Cassidy was not her sister but was interrupted.

"But why are you here?" Cassidy’s head had tilted to the side (her mother making herself known in the girl).

"Cassidy, are you going to invite our guest in?"

Andrea’s eyes stayed on Miranda's even as Cassidy lowered her head, "won’t you come in?" She made a show of waving Andrea into the house.

Andrea’s laughter was in her voice (and Miranda saw it in her eyes), "How kind. Thank you." She patted Cassidy on the shoulder and moved toward Miranda.

There was an air of confidence around Andrea, an air unknown to Miranda until that car ride in Paris. Now, that confidence made Miranda knees a bit weak; it made her heart beat a bit faster. She moved toward Andrea and when they met in front of the table for the _The Book_ they swayed a little, closing the space between them before widening it again. Their hands brushed, but did not link.

"Is Patricia ready?" Andrea bent a little and patted the dog in question.

Caroline, from the second floor landing, answered with another question, "you’re coming with us?"

"Us? From what I can see, Andrea and I are the only people ready." Miranda’s eyes left Andrea long enough to make contact with each of her daughters, both of them barefoot and without sweaters. A second later Caroline disappeared from sight. Cassidy speed walked one flight of stairs before running up the rest. Andrea laughed while Miranda shook her head and they swayed into each other again, this time Andrea's fingers lingered on Miranda's skin.

Miranda couldn’t quite believe her desire to be touching Andrea, as if weaving their fingers together would make for a deeper connection. In a way, it did. She’d experienced it quite a few times with Andrea, but there was still a small part of her that believed next time would lead to nothing but sweaty palms.

"You haven't told them?"

A lump formed in Miranda’s throat at the question. She looked to the empty table next to them and shook her head. They moved apart, but not as far as they had the first time.

"Miranda."

Andrea’s voice was soft, without judgment, the silent "look at me" as clear as the name.

Miranda sighed before connecting blue to brown.

"It’s okay."

Miranda wanted to say it wasn’t okay. That she was a grown woman and should have the words needed to explain this to her children. She should have the words to tell Caroline about the care and gentleness Andrea showed her. She should have the words to tell Cassidy about the safety and respect she felt. But how could she explain to her children things she didn’t fully have words for? It wasn’t okay and she was about to tell Andrea that when she was interrupted by elephants.

Caroline skidded to a stop at the bottom of the stairs so suddenly that Cassidy bumped into her. They apologized, in chorus, before Miranda could scold them.

* * *

The walk to the park was much easier than standing in her foyer. Since Andrea insisted on walking on Miranda’s left side, she keep Patricia’s leash in that hand. There was a little small talk about their days, but mostly they watched as Caroline and Cassidy walked ahead of them. Every now and again Miranda could feel Andrea’s eyes on her, curiosity, concern, care all directed her way. She didn’t acknowledge it, she didn’t have to, Andrea knew she knew.

The dog park was fairly small and simple, a field surrounded by a fence and some trees. There was a small jungle gym off to the side and a few benches scattered around the perimeter. When they arrived Andrea produced a ball launcher. The girls had never seen one before and Andrea explained it would make it easier for them to play catch with Patricia. They loved that idea.

Miranda found her way to her favorite bench, the one closest to the treeline and watched as Andrea interacted with her children. While she couldn’t hear what they were saying, she could hear laughter, see the smiles, and knew there was nothing to worry about. Caroline appeared to figure out the launcher fairly quickly. Cassidy needed a bit more practice and it was another five minutes before Andrea made her way to Miranda's bench.

She stopped in front of Miranda, eyebrow raised, silently asking if she could join. Miranda blinked her permission and waited for the sigh. Whenever Andrea was close enough to Miranda, she'd sigh, low and relaxed. Miranda couldn't figure out if the brunette knew she was making the sound, but it brought her peace to hear it. The bench was not very big and once settled Andrea was less than palm width away. Miranda smiled when she heard the exhale of breath.

"Caroline was disappointed I didn’t have two of them."

Miranda hummed. "It’s been some time since they’ve had to share something."

They watched as Cassidy threw the ball a few times. Caroline stopped her and started to give instruction while Patricia impatiently waited. After a few rounds they settled into a routine of three throws apiece.

When Andrea sighed again, soft and content, Miranda realized she had settled into the woman’s side. She didn’t want move, to put that distance—small as it was—between them again; so she didn’t. Instead, she shifted, just enough to free her arm from between them. Andrea had moved with her and the moment Miranda’s hand landed palm up on Andrea’s thigh Andrea covered it with her own. With their fingers laced, it was Miranda’s turn to sigh; she could feel her energy shift with the connection. She decided this was the perfect way to tell her children why Andrea had joined them. She placed her head on the brunette’s shoulder and relaxed.

Miranda was off in her own little world, eyes closed, focused on Andrea’s breathing and smell, when her daughters noticed their sitting arrangement and Andrea stopped breathing for a second. Miranda waited until she could feel Andrea’s eyes before lifting her head and opening her own. Andrea wanted some kind of reassurance and all Miranda smiled her peace. Andrea returned a smile of her own that she pressed to Miranda's knuckles before facing forward again.


	3. Chapter 3

The silence that greeted Andy as Miranda led her into the living room was the air of disagreement. There was a pillow the size of an area rug, that Caroline was laid out sideways on, her face like her mother’s after discovering her coffee cold. Cassidy stood, in the space separating the entertainment center and pillow, looking torn between pouting and being put out.

Miranda met Andy’s eye, released the hold her pinky had on Andy’s, and blinked towards the couch, "have a seat." Then she turned to Cassidy. "Yes?"

Cassidy nodded.

"But, mom-" Caroline started.

"No." Miranda cut her off, "it’s Cassidy’s turn." Miranda pointed at the pillow as she made her way to shelf of DVDs, "are you going to stand there for the entire film?"

Caroline laughed while Cassidy blushed.

Miranda continued, "although, she might have an easier time deciding," she turned her gaze to Caroline, "if you weren’t spread across the entire pillow."

Caroline blushed as Cassidy laughed.

"So what movie are we watching?" Andy’s curiosity about Caroline’s reaction trumped her decision to stay out of it.

Cassidy suddenly appeared sheepish and Caroline looked smug. Andy wanted Miranda to turn around so she could see her face. Instead, she watched her back as she set up the movie.

Caroline sat up so she facing Andy, "Have you seen _Home_?"

"No."

"Well, it’s Cassidy’s favorite movie and we’ve all seen more times than we can count."

Andy’s voice was cautious, "It must be a very good movie."

Caroline rolled her eyes, "maybe the first ten times."

Miranda moved toward Andy and the first preview started. She waited until her back was to both girls before she rolled her own eyes.

"Even Mom knows all the words." Caroline continued.

Miranda shook her head as sat beside Andy, leaving less than an inch between them, "Caroline, you don’t have to watch the movie. I’m sure there’s other things you could be doing right now." Miranda’s eyebrow rose along with her teasing.

Cassidy fought back a giggle and failed. Caroline just flopped back, bouncing a bit on the pillow.

Andy closed the space Miranda left and was unable to stop the unique sigh it caused. Not that she truly wanted to, she enjoyed the hint of smile Miranda gave every time she heard it. They watched the previews in silence and Andy was little surprised no one suggested skipping them. When the purple "frog faced squishy toy" like creatures appeared on the screen, Andy turned to Miranda. "All of the words?"

Twin laughter floated up from the floor and Miranda ignored Andy and her question. Andy took both actions as a response. "Must be a good movie." She sought out Miranda’s hand and was met half way. She smiled, full and happy, at the sigh Miranda gave once their fingers were laced together, it was the same puff of breathe that left the older woman every time they properly held hands; fingers interlaced, palms pressing together.

The movie proper was playing and Miranda turned to faced Andy, a smirk firmly in place even as her lips started moving.

"Today is the best day ever," Miranda mouthed, bored, "Moving Day!" She was entirely in sync with the movie. "For who? Answer: The Boov. Who are the Boov?"

"Answer: Best species ever at running away." Cassidy’s voice filled the air, followed by the sound of her clapping.

Andy squeezed the hand in hers. "A really good movie."

* * *

"Frog faced squishy toy," is a direct quote from Tip, the movie's main character. If you haven't seen it, you are missing out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to pretend Storybrooke is a small town outside of NYC and that Miranda grew up in this small town and her best friend is now the mayor.

Miranda watched as Andrea ascended the stairs and felt the emptiness in her palm. Regina’s birthday party was going well; her home the perfect size for such a gathering and people felt welcome. The mayor was floating amongst her guests, ensuring she spoke with everyone (she threw more than one look Miranda’s way whenever her mother-in-law wanted to talk).

She hadn’t seen Cassidy or Caroline since dinner. Henry’s PlayStation, his main birthday gift this year, provided more than enough entertainment for the three of them. Every now and again, the sounds of the party would ebb and bend and Miranda could hear one of her daughters' laughter drift downstairs.

Miranda pulled her eyes from the stairs to sweep her surroundings but stopped short at the sight of Regina standing in front of her. She hadn’t even heard the woman approach her.

"I have never seen you so smitten."

Miranda rolled her eyes. “I have no idea what you are talking about."

Regina gave a small, amused laugh. "Miranda, dear, name one other significant other you held hands with."

She couldn’t, of course; Regina knew that. Miranda cleared her throat.

"Am I your maid of honor this time?"

"What?" Miranda was two polished and sophisticated steps away from gawking.

Regina smirked "What?"

"You flat out refused to attend when I married Stephen and the toast you gave—" Miranda stopped herself with a shake of her head. "Gregory never forgave you for that."

"And I never forgave him."

Miranda could see Regina’s ire growing, the same way it always did when Miranda’s husbands were the topic. She watched as her best friend took a deep breath and an even deeper drink from her glass. Miranda could never understand the fascination with all things apple, but it did make for a mean drink.

"So if …" Miranda couldn’t finish the question, couldn’t quell the hesitation. Andrea and she hadn’t talked about where their relationship might be going; nothing more than the quiet understanding that there would be a relationship.

"Of course. I wouldn’t miss you marrying your soul mate."

Miranda rolled her eyes, yet another fascination Miranda didn't understand. Regina insisted soul mates were real and Miranda never had reason to agree (if anything, her own experiences gave her reason to doubt), so instead, she teased. Then Regina met Emma and her stance only became stronger and louder.

Regina continued, ignoring the defensiveness of Miranda's posture. "Your belief is irrelevant. The fact remains: This is the happiest I have ever seen you while in a relationship. And I’ve known you since you were twelve."

Miranda felt her head tilt into one of her smaller nods. Andrea, indeed, added something to her world she never thought possible, that fed a contentedness she long thought dead.

"Also, you have been holding her hand since you walked through the door."

"How could you possibly know that?" Even as she asked, Miranda knew the answer. Miranda's past relationships plus Andrea's disappearing act in Paris did not create the best impression in Regina's mind. This was the first time Regina had met Andrea, her first opportunity to see them interact. Miranda had no doubt Regina had been watching them both, like a sneaky little crow, the entire evening.

Regina tilted her head in a very Miranda like manner and blinked. Miranda rolled her eyes. Regina had seen Miranda accept every touch, every moment of contact; watched as she leaned into them, and seen how her face smiled without the help of her lips. There was nothing Miranda could say that wouldn’t cause the smirk that settled on Regina’s face to grow.

Then her index finger twitched.

When Andrea worked at _Runway_ , Miranda was hyper aware of her presence. There was something about Andrea that wrapped itself around Miranda whenever they shared a space. It was if their auras and energies needed to tangle. In the months since Andrea quit, since they’d been exploring this relationship—and each other—Miranda has felt her awareness shift. Now she felt she could anticipate Andrea’s presence, feel the ripples of her energy before the source arrived, that usually showed itself in her hands.

Regina’s smirk grew regardless. "We had dinner at the same table."

When dinner began and they were trying to settle in their seats, Miranda loosened her hold, offering Andrea the use of her dominant hand.

Andrea slid her chair closer to Miranda’s, leaned into her and placed a kiss’s shadow along her ear before whispering, "I’d rather not, if you don’t mind," reestablishing her hold, encouraging Miranda to do the same.

Cassidy had giggled at Andrea’s backward behavior, the food that slid from her fork, and her refusal to switch hands. Andrea laughed and challenged her to do better. "The Meal of Opposites" had begun and before long Cassidy, Henry, and Emma had moved their forks to their other hands.

Miranda knew Regina could do a lot worse than Emma, but in that moment, as she looked so young and loud, Miranda wondered how much better Regina could do. She turned, snarky comment about the children they were raising and dating ready but it was erased by the look on Regina’s face. The gentle smile resting there as she watched the game unfold told Miranda all she needed to know. She shifted in her seat to confirm it nonetheless. Emma had used the game to her advantage and had taken Regina’s hand in her own.

Miranda pulled her attention back to Regina. "Kettle. Pot."

Regina hummed her laughter, "Yes, but at least we can bear to be apart for more than a bathroom break."

"Speak for yourself." Emma said as she walked past, carrying a number of gifts into the living room. Her voice caused both women to give a small jump. Their reaction caused Andrea to laugh as she approached.

A moment later she stepped into place beside Miranda, who turned to greet her with the affinity of eye contact. Andrea’s side brushed into her, the absence of personal space a constant since they exited the car earlier in the evening. Miranda was usually annoyed by such touch, knowing only how her former spouses led with gripping hands and cutting comments. But Andrea didn’t attempt to dictate where or how they moved around the space, she was contently (Miranda could see it in her eyes) following the older woman. She wasn’t quiet, she joined in conversation, intent on learning about Miranda’s past, but there were no attempts to sway other people’s opinion of Miranda or her worth. Only ten minutes in and their movement around conversation, around the room, around each other, made Miranda more relaxed than she’d ever been in room of more than six people. The entire evening was practice and proof that Miranda should never stop living on hope.

Miranda could feel Regina’s eyes on them, knew she was taking in the twin sighs their connection caused and Miranda smiled. Their fingers interlaced, palms pressing, and the addition of Andrea’s other hand resting on Miranda’s forearm worked to reaffirm a small thought, a heavy idea, the new hope that maybe Andrea would always want to claim her with such care and adoration.


	5. Chapter 5

When Andy first started paying attention to Miranda, really looking and taking note, she found the woman very consistent in a lot of ways. Once they started dating she found that expanded to her sleeping habits as well, so every morning in Miranda's bed played out a lot like the first.  
  
The first night they spent together was not a result of sweaty, sated bliss that slid into REM. It was a quiet evening of cuddling that shifted into a night of shared thoughts. They sat on the couch long after the children were sleep, bodies close, minds as laced as their fingers while ideas, laughs, and annoyances flowed between them. Eventually, the stream became a trickle and Miranda asked her to stay.  
  
After they made their way upstairs, Miranda directed Andy to her bathroom, explaining where she could find a wash cloth and a toothbrush. Andy's curiosity was already napping and her brain registered little of what her eyes saw. When she finished, Miranda was already dressed for sleep and had a gown for Andy laid across the bed. Miranda said that it didn't matter which side of the bed Andy preferred, to make herself comfortable.  
  
Andy did just that, leaving room for Miranda on the right side of the bed, laying on her back. It was all so comfortable that Andy was almost asleep when she felt the bed dip. She stood at the edge of dreaming and still it felt when Miranda curled into her (face resting on her shoulder, breath touching her neck, leg draped over her hips, and hand resting near her heart) and she sighed. She wrapped one hand around Miranda's wrist and the other went to Miranda's shoulder and Andy pulled her even closer.  
  
The next morning, Andy learned yet another way money could indeed buy happiness. Miranda's alarm clock was a thing of wonder. It woke Andy up slowly, the sound started as a tickle in her dream, morphing into the scene's soundtrack, louder, but not unpleasant. Then the sound melted into her consciousness, dripping on the edges of reality. Andy was awake before the alarm started to sound in earnest. The sound, from white noise to rain and bells, lasted for nine minutes, was queit for nine, then did another around of nine before stopping completely. Miranda, who didn't usually start to stir until the alarm's second round, had it set for twenty minutes til six--it didn't change for the weekends.  
  
Andy could tell Miranda was still asleep by the rhythm of her breathing. Andy relaxed farther into the bed and smiled. Miranda had joked once, in her subtle way, about the value of Andy's breasts as pillows and Andy almost laughed as she realized Miranda meant a pillow for her hand, not her head. Andy lay, enjoying the weight of Miranda's hand, the pressure of her body, the feel of her hold. She slowly moved her arm, shifting her fingers from Miranda's shoulder to the hair at the base of her skull. She raked her nails over Miranda's skin, matching the movements and her breathing to Miranda's, making it easy to notice the moment Miranda started to shift into consciousness. They laid there for a few moments, thinking and unspeaking, until Miranda kissed the skin closest to her lips.  
  
"Good morning, Miranda." Andy's voice was quiet, still heavy with sleep.  
  
Miranda hummed, lightly squeezed the flesh in her hand, and said, "good morning, indeed."  
  
Andy's laughter was as crowded with sleep as her words, but it still made room for the happiness that wrapped around her being and she kissed Miranda's forehead. That morning greeting; the kiss, the squeeze, the laughter, stayed with them both, an inside joke that folded into habit before melding into a joy.  
  
Months later, Andy woke up comfortable, all forms of sated, and warm. She knew that she had about six minutes before the alarm went off and she spent three of them focusing on her breathing and the contentment that surrounded her. And Miranda. Miranda's hand on her chest. Miranda's leg over her hip. Miranda pressed into her side, head on her shoulder, face in her neck. A type of consistency that joy is born in. Andy had become part of Miranda's wake up call, her fingers gently parting hair, lightly scratching at Miranda's scalp; but still, it was the alarm that pulled Miranda completely from her sleep.  
  
The sound of rain and bells was joined by the feel of Miranda's lips as she kissed the skin of Andy's neck.  
  
Andy smiled around her, "Good morning, Miranda."  
  
But Miranda didn't squeeze, didn't speak.  
  
After two beats of her heart, Andy shifted, moved so she could look at Miranda. However, she didn't complete the movement because Miranda moved her hand, distracting Andy from her search for blue. Miranda's hand was directly under Andy's heart, wrist resting again her chest, palm facing outward. Andy moved to meet her, putting their hands together in a excitement-less high-five before lacing their fingers together and rubbed her thumb along the side of Miranda's.  
  
Miranda's sigh was followed by silence. Instead of speaking, of following a tradition she helped create, she shifted, pulled her head back and up enough that this time when Andy turned she found a deep blue that could be grey looking back at her. She couldn’t help but smile at the beauty before her.  
  
Miranda smiled back, brief and heavy, Andy could see there were thoughts clouding it. She used the hand still at the base of Miranda's neck to pull her close and kissed her forehead in silent encouragement.  
  
When their eyes met again, Miranda spoke, her voice heavy with sleep and determination and adoration, "Move in with us?"  
  
"Yes." Andy's smile reflecting every thought she held for Miranda in that moment and the knowledge that this would be her every morning.  
  
The look on Miranda's face--the emotion floating behind her eyes, the thoughts resting at the curl of her lips--was so radiant and open that Andy's heart started to dance a bit faster. A smirk slowly spread across Miranda's face, and when spoke again she squeezed the hand in her own, "Good morning, indeed."


	6. Chapter 6

Miranda knew there were other people in the room; she'd helped create the guest list; gave input on the invitations Andrea joyfully designed, but in the moment she could only acknowledge six of them. She could feel Regina's smile on the back of her head. It was full of joy and pride with a small--yet clearly visible--amount of _I told you so_. Cassidy and Caroline stood on either side of Regina, brighter than they had been for the two other weddings they'd been conscious for. Miranda felt her heart swell at the support and care coming from her innermost circle. It felt good to want something good for herself; something that those around her also agreed was good. 

Across from her she could see two happy albeit amazed young people. Lily and Doug still couldn't believe this was happening and Miranda couldn't blame them. First impressions are always the hardest to change and while she was disappointed she wasn't able to create the impression they were fighting against she wasn't sure she would have done any better if she'd been given the chance. What pleased her was that the smiles and friendship was genuine. Andrea deserved good people in her world (and some of the best people where the ones who could come back from anger and disappointment). 

Before Miranda could give the last person next to her any attention the music started; her focus narrowed, causing her guests to disappear, the people nearest to her turning into shadow. Her heart sped up as she waited and she unnecessary smoothed the sides of her dress. The silk was almost alabaster, but for the powder blue that accented the cuts and a little shade that blended in with the white. It was a fairly simple dress, plain in the eye's of her fans, but Miranda wasn't the point and she wanted none of the shine. 

When Andrea stepped into view Miranda's heart skipped a beat before going back to full speed. She heard someone gasp. Andrea's dress was beautiful but Miranda couldn't be bothered to think about the fashion of it. She was stuck on the hint of cerulean that ran along the lines of the white dress. Not only did her being lift at the knowledge that they thought so much alike they had matched without knowing, but also at the joke Andrea weaved into her dress--the idea that the "Cerulean Speech" was the most words Miranda ever directed at her at one time usually caused Miranda to chuckle. And she almost did, but it was stolen by a moment of anger at the father that isn't walking next to Andrea followed by of an odd approval at the mother that is. 

Then her focus was once again completely on Andrea, yet centered on her veil; a beautiful, thin lace that was blocking Miranda's view. She wanted nothing more than to see her face, to look into her eyes. But Andrea was more than halfway to her goal and Miranda told herself to be patient. 

The moment before Andrea was within arms reach they both lifted a hand to the other. One step later their palms were touching, in the next they were able to lace their fingers, even if it was a little awkward. Miranda released her sigh and feel blessed and afraid. She could not lose this woman. 

Three steps later and Andrea was next to her, hands connected, arms touching, bodies close, face to veil when Andrea sighed. Miranda watched the fabric sway with the breath. The feeling of blessed overtook all others. 

The officiant's voice floated around her, but Miranda couldn't make out any of the words. She just knew it had something to do with the veil she was ready to remove. Three fingers of her free hand took hold of the veil's bottom, taking hold as if it was the finest piece of cloth to ever grace her presence. She moved it over Andrea's head before letting it drop and allowing gravity to do the rest. Her hand moved, landed upon Andrea's cheek, her thumb moving as Andrea shifted to meet the contact. 

The smile directed at Miranda broke her and she spoke from her being, without censor, "I love you, always." 

Andrea's smile shifted to one Miranda lived for, the one that filled her heart and allowed her to believe in a god. 

Andrea's eyes were shining wet when she spoke, "And I love you, forever." 

Miranda swayed and Andrea met her movement. The kiss that followed would have done Wesley and Buttercup proud. When they pulled apart a laugh as light as bells, but full and humorous, yet laced with respect, floated around Miranda, reminding her that Andrea was not the only other person in the room. 

The officiant’s laughter flowed into words, clear and concise, “By the powers vested in me by the State of New York, I now pronounce you married." Because, truly, what else needed expressed? 


	7. Chapter 7

Caroline and Cassidy had decided to go to the same college (which surprised Andy); a little, unknown place in upstate New York (which surprised Miranda) because they wanted to be close to home (which surprised both of them) and they liked the small classes and the soccer program (which surprised no one). And even through they were only five hours away, their mothers couldn't spend nearly as much time with them as they would have liked and Andy was beyond excited when she was granted the day off and planned to spend almost all of it with her kids.

Miranda wanted to come as well but a board meeting, a print deadline, and a meeting with shareholders made that impossible. The plan was that Miranda would drive up, in their car, in time for the game while Andy would go in a rental. After the game and desert, Miranda would drive them home. So at four o'clock in morning, Andy kissed Miranda goodbye, giving a sad smile at the disappointment and envy on the older woman's face, a drove for five hours. At nine, Caroline and Cassidy met Andy and they headed off to yet another breakfast. After that there was a tour of the surrounding town, followed by another, smaller tour of the campus. Once that was done, they all headed to the dorms for an in-depth lesson on _Super Smash Bros_. When the girls had to leave and met up with their teammates, Andy still had about fifty minutes before kickoff.

She wondered around the stadium, taking in all the pictures and awards she hadn't bothered to look at before. It took less than ten minutes for her to get bored and she entered the seating area through the closest door. She realized as she checked the label on the seat next to her, that she hadn't made the best decision. She had to walk around almost half of the stadium to get to where she and Miranda were assigned. Her thoughts were on the last round of _Smash Bros_ and she smiled to herself. Cassidy was still convinced there was a video game out there she could win and Andy was more than happy to let her try.

“You have a gorgeous smile."

Andy blinked out of her thoughts and sighed at the tone the words were spoken in, her smile automatically decreasing. She nodded in the other woman's direction before checking the chair label. The numbers made her internally groan.

As she moved to sit, the woman spoke again, “Oh, my, are we in the same row?”

“Afraid so,” Andy managed to keep a shadow of smile, for the sake of politeness, but her voice was almost flat. She took the seat next to the woman, not because she wanted to interact, but because she loved Miranda and knew she preferred the aisle seat.

“It must be my lucky day.” Her smile grew with a predatory hint. “I'm Karen.”

Andy briefly considered moving to the aisle seat, at least until Miranda arrived, but knew it was too late for that to be anything other than rude. “I'm Andy.” The lack of recognition made it clear that the team moms were still referring to her as Andrea and her thoughts groaned again.

The woman turned a bit more in her chair, her eyes started moving down Andy's form, pausing to accentuate the words, "Well, Andy, it is my absolute pleasure to me you.”

Andy rolled her eyes and for the first time in years, Andy prayed Miranda would achieve the impossible and arrive 30 minutes early (instead of five) to an event that was not work related as she got situated.

“Usually only parents show up this early.” Karen's smile didn't change at all, but her tone shifted, quieted a bit.

Andy just nodded.

“I thought I met all the girls' folks and I can't say I've met anyone as beautiful as you.”

Andy gave a weak smile at the compliment and told herself there was no reason for guilt. Caroline and Cassidy had forgiven Andy for her absences. It helped that for their freshman year Andy had only missed two games. Their sophomore year she'd missed five. This year, however, Andy had missed every game of the regular season (today was the start to the championship tournament) while Miranda had maintained her record, missing not one game since high school.

“Your daughter must be a freshmen.”

“She is.” Karen's face shifted into a different type of smug. “She was brought on as a starting midfielder.”

Andy wanted to be impressed, the girl must have skill, but Karen was annoying her. She thought she might wipe some of the smugness off the woman's face with the knowledge that her children were the best midstriker and goalie the school had seen. “Oh,” she said, “that's nice. My …” she started, but never finished. The air around her had shifted, as it always did, when Miranda was near.

Karen didn't notice she'd lost Andy's attention in the middle of a sentence and she started talking again. Andy wasn't listening, she started scanning the staduim, pausing at all the doors. It didn't take her long to find Miranda had entered through the set closest to their seats. Andy stood as she made eye contact with Miranda, her full grin making Miranda's smile it's reflection. By the time Miranda reached her the background noise that was Karen had stopped and Andy sent up a prayer of thanks.

She sighed her hello in Miranda's hair as she wrapped the woman in a hug. As they stepped apart, Andy pressed a kiss to Miranda's lips. The unusual addition to their greeting caused Miranda's eyebrow to raise. Andy's smile went lopsided as she shrugged and stepped aside, allowing Miranda and Karen a full view of one another.

“I assume you've met my wife, Miranda,” Andy couldn't help but smirk at the contriteness that flashed across Karen's face as a number of realizations hit her.

“Yes, of course. Hello, Miranda, wonderful to see you again.”

Andy could hear the brown-nosing dislike in the woman's tone and decided she was done with polite as well. She turned all of her attention to Miranda just in time to see the quick and displeased look given to Karen's outfit and hair. Then Miranda's attention was back on Andy, who smiled at the lack of acknowledgment and reached for Miranda's hand. By the time they were seated their fingers were laced together, hands relaxed on the shared armrest and Miranda's sigh, which Andy saw as much as heard, passed through a smirk as she leaned back.


	8. Chapter 8

Because I love the song (and this fic shares its name), here's a link to [_Hold My Hand_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-oCCnxBos10) by Michael Jackson and Akon.

* * *

Miranda was sitting in Andrea's study (which was next door to her own, converted from a guest room), folded up on the couch in her usual manner, reading a book about the messages Emoto had found in water when her phone rang. Cassidy wanted to take their puppy, Rusty, to the dog park and thought the one near the townhouse would be perfect. The dogs there were usually well behaved and Miranda agreed it would be a great place to test Rusty's training. Cassidy called because she wanted to park at the house and walk over. She also wanted to know if either of her moms wanted to join her.

Miranda was always too busy to notice how much vacation time Irv used or how often he wasn't in the office, but it all became very clear once she took the reigns of Elais-Clark. Not only was she able to boost the profits of all company's magazines (including the horrendous _Auto Universe_ ), she was also able to accomplish a great deal of it from home. She was grateful for change in her routine and the fact it allowed her to be free for such impromptu visits.

While she spoke with Cassidy, she watched Andrea work; she was at her desk, eyebrows wrinkled in concentration, unaware of the fact that Miranda was on the phone. Miranda smiled as pride settled over her; Andrea had come such a long way and her work ethic and dedication made it clear she belonged in her position. In less than five years as Editor in Chief she'd led _The Mirror_ to the ranks of _The New York Times_. Miranda knew she alone would be joining Cassidy and Rusty and told her daughter as much. She also asked that Cassidy call when she arrived, because she knew the doorbell would distract Andrea.

Then, thirty-five minutes later, Miranda did just that when she stood next to Andrea's chair, told her where (and why) she was going, before kissing her on the forehead and heading out. Cassidy, Calista, and Rusty waited patiently on the porch, not waiting to test Rusty too much in one day. When Miranda asked about Caitlin, Calista's twin sister, she was told video games with her father was a much more important and it didn't matter if they were taking the dog with them.

Rusty was so well behaved and extremely friendly, that they made it to the park and Cassidy was able to play more of a laid back chaperone role while Calista and Rusty played with the other dogs. It was a little over two hours later before power of lunch pulled them back to the townhouse. The walk was fairly quiet. Calista was a few steps ahead, managing a small game of chase with Rusty while Cassidy kept a hold of the leash.

“I know Derrick hates NFL games, but Caitlin was so excited he caved. She's had him glued to the thing all weekend."

“She takes after her mother, I see.” Miranda smiled at Cassidy's giggle.

“I never played anything as undignified as,” she attempted to gasp, “football.”

“No, no. You just insisted on leading the elephants' dance revolution.”

Cassidy's giggle bloomed into laughter, until she caught sight of Calista toeing the curb.

“Cali, what did I tell you about crossing?”

Calista looked properly caught, took a few steps back, “to look both ways and wait for an adult.”

Miranda only heard the first half of her granddaughter's response, her attention had been pulled to the red sports car turning onto the street about a block away. It had to be moving at least twenty miles over the speed limit and it was weaving with no signs of slowing. Miranda had started to move, mostly unconsciously, towards Calista.

Miranda couldn't believe someone could be so reckless in a residential neighborhood. She didn't process how fast she moved, all she understood was that Calista was not in a safe place. When she reached her granddaughter, Miranda grabbed her by the arm and basically tossed her to Cassidy. She wanted to smile, to be thankful that she saved her granddaughter, that Calista was safe, but the reality of her own sacrifice interrupted the feeling. Unable to move herself out of the car's path, Miranda's body lay crumpled in the hole left in her neighbor's home.

The echo of Cassidy's scream, mixed with Calista's cries, filled the spaces left by the pain that rippled through Miranda's body until there was nothing left but hurt. It was so complete, so persistent that Miranda couldn't see past it, couldn't hear over it, couldn't think through it, lost all sense of time and space to it. It was so overwhelming Miranda knew she was going to drown in it.

Then it shifted.

There was something different under the agony; something was mixing in the depths, and attempted to give her breath. There was Andrea.

Miranda couldn't tell if her eyes were open or closed, she couldn't feel anything, not her arms or legs, not her head or neck, but she knew, without a doubt, that her palm was pressed to Andrea's and that their fingers were laced. That simple connection wrapped itself around her and allowed her something other than pain. She tried to sigh, to sink into the feeling, but she succeeded only in coughing up blood.

With the regret of someone finishing a really good book and knowledge of Andrea's closeness, Miranda attempted to fight the pain with the memorized feeling of holding Andrea's hand.

* * *

Andy's day had been emotionally trying; from the coffee placed on her desk (Miranda's usual order) to the last pitched features idea (Fashion's effect on the economy). Even the junior editors where in on it (only Miranda's favorite font would do for this month's cover). And to top it all off, the air around Andy kept shifting. Every time there was a moment of silence, she would be overcome with the feeling Miranda was in the room; a feeling that last accompanied a kiss to the forehead. Every time the air crept up her spine Andy searched the room she was in, she'd look around as if Miranda would materialize out of the strange air around her, knowing all the while she wouldn't.

It was all too much. By two o'clock, Andy had Rose free her schedule so she could go home.

The moment she stepped into the foyer Andy knew she hadn't made the best decision. She had thought about selling the house many times over the years, each time resulting in a lengthy conversation with Lily that usually ended with some form of "Selling the house won't erase your grief." Andy didn't think it would, not honestly, but she hoped it might lessen the pressure on her being, even if only a little bit.

She walked around the ground floor, sliding her fingers over items she and her wife had picked out and placed; picturing Miranda's smile, trying to make it reflect on her own face. She'd made it to the living room before the air shifted again, causing her to look up and around. Of course, Miranda wasn't in the room, but the last family portrait she'd been in was.

Andy was standing next to Miranda, bodies close, hands connected, smiling at each other; their family standing around them. Caroline and her wife, Danielle, were standing next to Miranda. In front of them, with one of their hands on each shoulder, was their son, Reid. Next to Andy stood Cassidy and her husband, Derrick. Derrick had a hand on Caitlin's shoulder while Cassidy's rested on Calista's.

Calista wasn't the only one who had nightmares after Miranda's accident, but she was the only person who admitted it. Andy knew better, as did Caroline and Derrick. Those nightmares continued on for years, haunting the family until three years ago. That's when everyone else's dreams shifted. Caroline was the first to share. She dreamt they were at the dog park; she and her sister chased Patricia around the park while Andy and Miranda cuddled on a bench nearby. The scene so familiar Andy broke, unable to control the sobs that tore through her. 

Andy didn't hear about another dream (directly) for months. Then, Cassidy told her about one of the dreams she had: She and Miranda were at the kitchen table, doing Cassidy's homework and laughing. The scene was odd enough (Miranda always hired school's best tutors in order to avoid that exact situation) that Andy was able to breathe through it. After that, they seemed to dream about Miranda every night because weekends and dinners were full of unconscious scenes and interactions--although, Caroline was always cautious in her retellings.

The last time Andy dreamed of Miranda was one week before they started dating. Part of her wondered if she wasn't “properly” missing the love of her life. Or if she'd been wrong and hadn't loved Miranda as strongly or as deeply as she believed she did. She tried to hide that disappointment from her children, but she was swimming in a flood of inadequacies and they saw. Once, Cassidy tried to say that Miranda knew Andy was stronger than her and her sister. Even as she said it, Andy could tell she didn't quite believe it. Later, Andy overheard Danielle whispering that Cassidy needed something to replace the memory of her nightmares but nothing would replace Andy's loss. Andy pressed a hand to her chest, pressure to a quiet pain that appeared there.

Andy stood and stared at her time-frozen family and knew Danielle was right. Andy might be stronger, but she'd never be strong _enough_. It still hurt. She still woke in the middle of the night, face wet. She still cried through reports. She still wondered if the pain would ever lessen, if she'd ever feel able to bare it. She was conflicted, tugged by reality and desire. As much as she wanted to dream of Miranda, she knew waking up would take the rest of her heart.

The dull pain Andy labelled as heart-ache returned and pulled Andy from her thoughts and she decided a nap was her best course of action. If she was lucky, she'd have a dreamless sleep. After making her way up the stairs, she'd laid down, fully dressed, shoes still on. As she made herself comfortable the air shifted again. Andy wailed and forced herself not to look around the room. She simply closed her eyes and wrapped herself around the pillow she still sprayed with Miranda's perfume. The dull pain had returned, but only for a moment. Again, Andy blamed it on her grief and succumbed to sleep.

She was not blessed with a dreamless rest.

Andy opened her eyes and found herself at _Runway_. Immediately she knew she was dreaming. Not only was she sitting at her old desk (the offices hadn't looked like this in years), but also, the mirror across from her (it was standing in place of Emily's chair) informed her she looked as she did at 23; and, the walls to the inner office were made of something solid and white that blocked Miranda's office from view. Andy wanted to scream as the dull pain joined her dream.

She stared at the walls and willed them to dissolve. She almost cheered when a spot directly in front of her started to fade from white to clear. That spot slowly grew until enough of the walls were clear and Andy could see into the office; her thoughts no longer moved the progress along. Andy's focus was on Miranda, who looked as she had the first time Andy laid eyes on her. She was at her desk, newspaper in hand, eyes on it's pages. Andy stared, still trying to believe that after all this time, this dream was real, that she was looking at her wife and the dull pain increased its intensity. After what could have been two minutes or twenty, Miranda looked up, head tilted, "Well," written across her features and Andy knew her pillow would be wet with the tears she was shedding.

Finally, she stood up, intent on making her way to the mirage, when everything fell away. There was nothing but a blue tinted white that could have been light, a space that held only herself and Miranda. Miranda was in front of her, almost washed out by the surrounding, looking as she had that last morning. Andy stared, overwhelmed by Miranda's beauty and being. Her heart bloomed with it, filled to the brim, as if it would burst. The pain already living there had become steady enough for Andy to ignore. She thought only of making her way to her wife.

It was hard to judge the distance and the walk took way longer than Andy would have liked. Her tears were flowing freely, but she could still see Miranda's arms were lifted and waiting for her. For a second, she wondered why Miranda wasn't moving towards her, but then she remembered she was in a dream and logic, of all things, did not need to exist here. She fell into Miranda's arms, completely relaxing into the touch, and hiccuped through the sigh she had been holding onto for years.

Andy was focused on the feeling of home, of love, of completeness that filled her. The nagging thoughts about waking up were silenced, she could deal with that later. This hug would be cherished. Andy stayed wrapped in those arms for an uncountable period of time. Then Miranda started to pull away.

“It's time,” was all Miranda said.

Then, before Andy could form a question, Miranda sought out Andy's hand and smiled as she laced their fingers together; Miranda's sigh breathed love back into Andy's world and her last dream ended as one of her best.

* * *

Thank you Reinedelutin, your time & help has been invaluable. And elle_nic, thanks so much.


End file.
